But now the poignant sorrow had gone again; and as he walked here alone on this March evening, with the steady hills about him and the flushing sky overhead, and the sweet life quickening in the grass at his feet, an extraordinary peace flooded his soul.
There came a knocking at the gate, and the jangle of a bell; and he went across quickly and unbarred the door.
Mr. Morris was there on horseback, a couple of saddlebags strapped to his beast; and a little group of loungers stood behind.
Chris smiled with delight, and threw the door wide.
The servant saluted him and then turned to the group behind.
“You have no authority,” he said, “as to my going in.”
Then he rode through; and Chris barred the gate behind him, glancing as he did so at the curious faces that stared silently.
Mr. Morris said nothing till he had led his horse into the stable. Then he explained.
“One of the fellows told me, sir, that this was the King’s house now; and that I had no business here.”
Chris smiled again.